Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
Yet he retained his senses sufficiently to note the police-captain's slight signal to his men to come on board, and again he heard Steingall's voice: "Don't make any trouble, Voles. It'll be all the worse for you in the end." The detective's warning was not given without good cause. He knew the faces of men, and in the blazing eyes of this man he read a maniacal fury.
Some are inhabited by maniacal fishermen, who sit day after day all day long at the end of poles protruding from front or back doors or bedroom windows.
"And who's going to take me?" he cried. "You, Robb Chillingwood, you? Ha, ha!" and his maniacal laugh rang out again. "Look to yourself, you fool. Grey crossed my path, and he paid for it with his life. You shall follow him." While his words yet rang upon the air his hand shot out from behind him, gripping a heavy revolver. The pistol was raised, and a shriek went up from the two ladies.
There are men in this world who cannot rest; who are so constituted that they can only take their leisure in the shape of a change of work. To this fairly numerous class belonged Mr. J. Preston Peters, father of Freddie's Aline. And to this merit or defect is to be attributed his almost maniacal devotion to that rather unattractive species of curio, the Egyptian scarab.
Bartley never followed him beyond his own room; he had been goaded into a maniacal impulse, and he returned to his gloomy sullenness. Walter's declaration, made so suddenly before four persons, startled them greatly for a moment but only for a moment. Julia was the first to speak.
Can I, can anyone, do more than that?" The Englishman rallied, passed a hand across his brow, then rose unsteadily to his feet, looking around the cabin. Habit called for a drink at this juncture and he saw nothing to drink. Anger awoke in him; he grew maniacal, dangerous, and the late September shadows filled the room. "What woman do you mean?" he cried. "In vino veritas! You thought I was sober.
But he had waited only until he saw Ray kick the helpless form before him, that of the god that Fenris, for all the wild had claimed him, still worshipped in his inmost heart. With fiendish, maniacal fury he had sprung to avenge the blow.
On the table lay an ancient flintlock pistol, somewhat apart from a heap of small arms belonging to an eighteenth century trophy. Murder! Murder and Mrs. Marteen! His imagination pictured her beautiful still face suddenly becoming maniacal with fury and pain. Gard suppressed an exclamation. Well, he would swear Mahr was alive at half after eleven, when he had seen him.
They were hollow, maniacal seas. They were eighty feet high at the least. They were not seas at all. They resembled no sea a man had ever seen. They were splashes, monstrous splashes, that is all, splashes that were eighty feet high. Eighty! They were more than eighty. They went over our mastheads. They were spouts, explosions. They were drunken. They fell anywhere, anyhow.
When the mare whirled him up to the closed gate he was wondering whose house could be afire. The man who had rung the signal-box yelled something at him, but he already knew. He left the mare to her will. In front of his door was a maniacal woman in a wrapper. "Ned!" she screamed at sight of him. "Jimmie! Save Jimmie!" Trescott had grown hard and chill. "Where?" he said. "Where?" Mrs.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking